At Your Door (or floor, whichever is closest)
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Tim's got a lot of revenge to plan for this. Music Monday for JayTim week.


**At Your Door (or floor, whichever is closest) **

**A Word**: My entry for Music Monday of JayTim week on Tumblr. Or my second one, the first has way too many links to Youtube videos to ever be posted on this site. Look up on my profile for a link to the fic, Music Library. Listen to The Proclaimers song, "I'm Gonna Be" to get the music for this fic.

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Tim's trying to figure out the connection between Poison Ivy and some seemingly random paint store robberies when his laptop is hijacked. The screen flickers in a way that has Tim's heart jumping up his throat before the image stabilizes, and the cursor starts moving on it's own. Closing all of the files he'd been paging through and opening one of his media players. A file begins to download.

The keyboard isn't responding, and Tim curses as he tries every keystroke and command he can think of to get some control back. None of it works and Tim hopes like hell that Babs is in a spiteful mood tonight. He can't think of anyone else off the top of his head who could break through his security so easily and utterly freeze Tim out. He watches the bar progress with suspicion and reaches under the laptop to finger the main battery. Ready to yank the thing out if needed.

The file finishes and opens within seconds on the player. Tim has a split second to see it's an audio file before it's playing, and a familiar chord starts.

"When I wake up," Tim starts because he was _alone_ in his living room and now he's not. "Well, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you."

Tim's head snaps towards the kitchen and he comes half way off the couch. Hands curling to be ready even though the rest of him is just gaping at Jason Todd, slumped against the door frame. Grinning almost manically as he sings, "When I go out, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with _you_."

Tim is, to say the least, confused."Jason, what are you-"

"If I get _drunk_," and he _is_. Because that's a mostly empty bottle of tequila dangling from his fingers, and when Tim steps closer he can swear he smells it. "Well, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you!"

"And if I haver," Jason frowns and slurs the words, but picks right back up with an enthusiasm that would be infectious in the bar he probably stumbled from. "Hey, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you!"

"Oh, god," Tim slumps back down onto the couch and rubs his closed eyes. There is no one alive who wouldn't know what's coming next. "I'm going to kill you Jason."

Jason's grin gets wider and he _waltzes_ into the room as his voice rises. "But I would walk five hundred miles! And I would walk five hundred more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!"

"When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you," Jason's using the bottle as a microphone as he does a jerky twirl in front of Tim's coffee table. "And when the money comes in for the work I do I'll pass almost every penny on to you!"

Tim snorts, "Jason, you don't have a job, and I'm reasonably sure I don't want to know where you keep getting funds."

"Tim!" The shout comes from the kitchen and Tim forces himself to look over slowly. Not give away that he was surprised again. Dick's frowning at him from behind a _camera_.

"Are you recording this!?" Tim also doesn't whimper in horror. A red light near Dick's thumb crushes that hope quickly.

"When I come _home_," Jason kicks the table and Tim whirls back around to glare at him. Jason gives him a smug grin as he throws both his arms out. A little tequila sloshing out with the move to puddle on his floors. "Oh, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you!" Jason honest to god _winks_ and Dick _giggles_. "And if I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you!"

Dick sways in time with the music and Tim suspects he's drunk too. The whole room smells from the open bottle, but Tim knows Dick. He's too much of a mother hen to let anyone do anything drunk unless he's had more than a few drinks himself.

"But I would walk five hundred miles! And I would walk five hundred more!" Jason's _loud_ and Tim groans as he imagines the noise complaints that've most likely already been called in on him. "Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!"

Tim's suspicions are confirmed as Dick joins Jason on the nonsense chorus. Or as much as he can get around the giggles as he circles, well out of Tim's reach, to get his face in the camera shot. They're both out of synch and clearly don't know what sounds to make, but they're obviously giving it their best.

"Both of you are dead to me," Tim gives as dignified a glare as he can manage to the camera while still keeping Jason in sight, because the man is twirling dangerously close. Tim also doesn't like the glint in his eyes. "No one will find your bodies when I'm through with you. Just the tequila bottle."

"When I'm lonely," Jason croons, doing an impressive job of ignoring Tim's words and glare, "well, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you. And when I'm dreaming," Tim's mildly impressed with the amount of sleaze in the leer Jason gives him. "Well, I know I'm gonna dream, I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you!"

Dick _cackles_ and almost trips over nothing as he swings wide. Eye glued onto the camera and Tim's fairly certain he's hit himself with it already. "Exactly how much have you two been drinking tonight, and how were you able to get in through my kitchen window without breaking your necks?"

"When I go out, well, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you! And when I come home, yes, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you! I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you!"

Dick tsks, sounding sad and smug, "You underestimate our tolerance, little brother. I could get through that blind folded and blackout drunk in the middle of winter."

And Tim would take that as the chastisement that Dick means it to be except Dick's tripping on air again, and Jason's wobbling more than the "dancing" warrants.

"But I would walk five hundred miles!" Jason slides to his knees in front of Tim. Overshooting and hitting the couch, almost plowing face first into Tim's lap. That doesn't stop him from hunching down so that he's looking up into Tim's eyes intently. "And I would walk five hundred more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!"

Tim buries his face into his hands as Dick takes up the chorus with more vigor than any sober person could manage. Jason won't have it though and grabs Tim's hands. Pulling them away from his face so he can grin right into Tim's red face.

"Wait," Tim goes stiff. Jason's using _both_ of his hands and a panicked glance doesn't turn up the tequila bottle anywhere in sight. "Where's the- Hmf!"

The kiss is a clumsy mash of lips, slightly off centered, and tastes so overwhelmingly of tequila that Tim almost gags. Jason pulls back, throws his head back, and _roars_ the final lines of the song. "And I would walk five hundred miles! And I would walk five hundred more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!"

Tim's fairly sure he's a solid shade of red not previously known to man. Some unholy mixture of flushed with anger and embarrassment and something else that he's not even going to dignify with a name until these two idiots sober up. He shoves at Jason's chest and the man sprawls backward with a laugh. All loose limbs and an unfairly bright smile.

Before Tim can do something like throw himself on top of Jason -to kill him, though there's a little voice in his mind that laughs at the reasoning- Dick's wrapping his arms around him from behind. His laughter washing over Tim's ear in a distinctly alcoholic haze that makes him shrug the older man off. "You both smell like a bar floor."

Dick flops over onto the couch and Tim grabs the camera from his flailing hands. The video is already gone, and Tim's laptop chimes. There's a message on the screen from one of the Oracle accounts. _Admit it, that was cute. Now, keep those idiots inside. They've had more than that one bottle._

"Dead," Tim grits out between his teeth as Jason flips himself around enough to grab one of Tim's feet and pull. "_All_ of you."

"But I fell down at your door," Jason protests with a look that is far too innocent to be believable. "That's romantic!"

"You fell down on my _floor_," Tim retorts as he's pushed off the couch by Dick wriggling around in a successful attempt to take up every available inch of it. Jason takes immediate advantage and drapes himself over Tim's lap. "After you broke in. That's creepy and stalkerish, not romantic."

"You _like_ creepy and stalkerish," Dick slurs from the couch. Which is good, because it means he's already on his way to passing out. Coherent words have always been the last thing to desert Dick. A hand threads into Tim's hair and he resists the weak shove down towards Jason. "Now kiss!"

"Already did," Tim says wryly as Jason wraps his arms around Tim's body and buries his head against his stomach. Intimate as nothing else and Tim pushes that thought away with the kiss, because Jason is _drunk_. Tim winces when Dick keeps pushing and slaps his hand away. "Stop that Dick!"

Jason laughs, and his breath tickles over the bit of skin that his squirming has uncovered. Tim shivers and pushes his shirt down over the area as Jason mumbles something that Tim can't catch at all. "Just go to sleep. I can't have my revenge until your both sober."

Dick giggles and makes nonsensical remarks that Tim ignores for another ten minutes. The silence between each remark getting longer until he finally passes out. Tim would think Jason gone long before if the man didn't mutter grumpily each time Tim tried to move out from under his weight. It's another five minutes after Dick starts making that whistling noise he only makes after a few beers when Tim can finally extract himself.

Wincing at the way his left leg has gone numb, Tim limps into his room. Leaving Jason and Dick where they lay. It's warm enough in the apartment and they've both slept in worse places. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jason, sprawled on the floor, the white fringe of hair falling over his closed eyes.

Tim carefully doesn't think about anything as he firmly closes the door except for exactly how miserable he's going to make both of their lives for the next month. Maybe two.

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End file.
